Kursk

The Young Vic's Maria studio accommodates about the same number of people as a modern submarine and the effect, in Bryony Lavery's Kursk at least, is similarly claustrophobic. The audience either peers down from narrow scaffolding gangways or lurks in nooks amid naval paraphernalia on stage. This is theatre as documentary realism.

The action follows a British submarine on a secret reconnaissance mission to the Barents Sea where the crew are witnesses to the Kursk disaster - the explosion in August 2000 on a Russian nuclear submarine. Most of the 118 men on board died, but a handful were trapped alive on the sea bed. That creates, in the play, a dilemma for the British vessel: to expose itself with a rescue attempt, and possibly provoke a diplomatic incident, or slink away; humanity or security. But most of the drama revolves around the British seamen, their isolation and its antidote in boisterous camaraderie. The story is slim and, although the crew is convincing as an ensemble, some suspiciously thespian urbanity pokes through the commanding officer's supposed military bearing. At times the plot risks submersion in the sound effects and naval jargon, but there is enough emotional engagement to navigate the drama through all the periscope-swivelling simulation.